Angels at War Page 3

  Ignoring her protests Jack kissed her long and deep. A warmth spread through her, deep in her belly, and she forgot all about his needing to go to work, or her annoyance over his drinking too much. Maybe he had good reason. It even flickered across her mind that her decision yesterday may have been a bad one, after all. But the kiss ended all too soon, and he was giving her one of his rueful grins. ‘I messed up in some way, didn’t I? Not good enough for you. Too stupid. Too poor. That’s why you wouldn’t go through with it.’

  ‘That’s not it at all.’

  ‘So why won’t you marry me then?’

  Livia sighed, struggling to extricate herself from his hold. ‘I explained all of that. This is not about you, it’s about me. I’m just not ready for marriage and babies yet. Anyway, why can’t we have a free-thinking union on equal terms? No ceremony, just a promise.’ She kissed him again, wanting him, needing him to forgive her, but he brushed her aside, reached for his shirt to pull it over his head.

  ‘Who brought me home?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. I was fast asleep.’

  ‘Hardly matters in the circumstances, does it?’ His tone had changed, taking on a bitter edge. ‘It wouldn’t have been a proper wedding night even if we’d gone through with it, would it, since we’ve been together so long?’

  ‘You mean I wouldn’t have been a trembling virgin waiting for my man.’

  He shrugged, concentrating on tucking his shirt into his trousers, saying nothing.

  ‘Would you have preferred a virgin for a wife?’

  ‘I would have preferred you, but you turned me down.’ Then he snatched up his cap and jacket and strode to the door.

  Livia leapt from the bed to run after him with his satchel and snap tin. She wanted desperately to make him understand her point of view. ‘You know I saw Mr Blamire yesterday?’

  He turned to frown at her, his hand on the door knob. ‘What for? I thought your father’s affairs were all settled.’

  ‘They are, except for the store, which has reopened. You know we once talked of—’

  Jack interrupted, looking suddenly exasperated. ‘You aren’t still thinking of trying to run it yourself?’

  Livia gave a half shrug. ‘Why would I not? It belongs to my family. The responsibility for all those staff is mine. Besides, I need to earn some money so we can get out of this place. Maybe then, when I’ve got things running smoothly at the store, we can think again about marriage.’

  She could see at once it had been the wrong thing to say. Jack stepped back into the room, his face darkening with anger, his tone dangerously soft. ‘Is there something wrong with Fellside? Think yourself too grand, do you, for the home I can provide, is that it?’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Jack. I’m not saying that at all. Fellside, and you, have been kind to me. But we aren’t intending to spend our entire lives here.’

  ‘Plenty do.’

  ‘Not willingly. You know full well this is the roughest, poorest part of Kendal. Your own mother was eager enough to move to Staveley, to set up her knitting business.’

  Livia glanced about her at the loft, strangely empty now that Jessie and her children had moved out. Even the loom that had once taken up more than half the available living space, the boxes of yarn, the finished cloth and stockings that had occupied every corner that wasn’t already filled with a sleeping child, had gone. The Flint family had barely earned enough money to feed themselves and had constantly struggled to pay the increases in rent inflicted upon them by Josiah Angel, her own father. Yet when she’d finally walked out of her own home, blaming that same father for Maggie’s suicide, Jessie had given up her own bed to Livia. The old woman had opened her heart and home to a perfect stranger without a second’s hesitation.

  Her son had welcomed her for a different reason. Now he was telling her that she could do the place up. ‘You could make curtains, give it a lick of paint. Make it nice for us. You’ll have time now you’re no longer working on the loom all day.’

  ‘Is that supposed to satisfy me? Sewing curtains, tidying up, washing and ironing. And why are men never expected to “make things nice”? Why shouldn’t women try to find a way out too? Where’s the harm in having aspirations to better ourselves? Once I get things going we could rent a house on Gooseholme, or in one of Kendal’s yards.’ Livia smiled, reaching up to kiss his cheek, but he jerked his face away.

  ‘I haven’t time to listen to all this nonsense. Some of us have a living to earn,’ and turning on his heel, he stormed off down the stairs.

  Exasperated with this display of stubborn hypocrisy, Livia called after him. ‘Exactly, so what’s wrong with my earning a living too? It never bothered you before when I helped Jessie with the knitting.’

  ‘That was different, you were no good at it,’ he shouted back. ‘And you weren’t my wife then.’

  ‘I’m not your wife now, and maybe never will be at this rate!’ Almost the moment the words were out of her mouth, Livia wanted to pull them back. They were met with a long silence, followed by the slam of the door.

  Chapter Three

  Livia had always enjoyed visiting the store and paused before entering to allow herself time to carefully examine the window display. ‘Still too overcrowded and busy,’ she muttered to herself. Every corner was crammed with goods: linen tablecloths and pillow slips, a blue Chinese dinner service, ladies wraps and furs, gloves, shoes and capes jostling with golf bags and gentleman’s check socks, autumn sweaters and summer straw hats. Even the season was unclear, as if heralding in a new one while still trying to catch up on lost summer trade. Nothing was ticketed, and the entire muddle overlooked by mannequins with knobs for heads dressed in frilled frocks more suited to a garden party than a cool September day.

  So much for Grayson’s qualifications in window dressing.

  Livia had resolved to waste no time in presenting herself that very afternoon before the redoubtable Miss Caraway, looked upon as something of a dragon by the staff. She’d no idea whether the work would be easy or not, and Jack was right when he said she’d been useless at helping Jessie with the knitting and weaving. Hopefully, shopkeeping was much less complicated than trying to operate a loom, or a knitting pin?

  Filled with new optimism and a firm belief in herself, Livia pushed open the door and went inside. At all cost she meant to hold fast to her dreams.

  She glanced about her, wondering where Miss Caraway might be, or if one of the many page boys in white gloves might point her in the right direction. As ever she found herself watching, fascinated, as an esteemed customer was met at the door by the principal floorwalker in his smart morning suit. Bowing deferentially, he exchanged a few polite words, presumably to ascertain madam’s requirements, before escorting her to a counter. Once he’d ensured that she was comfortably seated, and after yet more obsequious bows, he left her in the proficient care of a shop assistant.

  ‘What a lot of fuss,’ Livia muttered to herself. ‘Why can’t a customer be left free to explore the store and view the goods on her own, without interference?’

  ‘Because it would be entirely lacking in dignity and taste not to attend upon a customer with proper decorum. And most presumptuous of Angel’s to assume a customer would be unable to resist whatever she chances to find.’

  Startled, not realising that she’d actually voiced her thoughts out loud, Livia found herself face to face with the dragon herself. ‘Oh, Miss Caraway. I didn’t see you standing there.’

  ‘Clearly not.’

  Blushing to the roots of her hair, Livia instantly and profusely apologised for her careless remarks, claiming complete ignorance in such matters.

  Miss Caraway tartly agreed, biting her tongue against further comment as she was all too aware that she could hardly reprove the owner of the premises for voicing her opinion on it.

  Before she quite lost courage entirely, Livia asked if she might have a word. ‘In private, if you please.’

  ‘I was warned you may be calling,’ Miss Ca
raway archly remarked, with what might pass for a smile.

  Livia was led into a room little bigger than a broom cupboard. This was evidently Miss Caraway’s private sanctum, stuffed as it was from floor to ceiling with catalogues, dress patterns and order books. It also contained a table piled high with rolls of fabric, but no chair, so Livia was obliged to stand. It was only now, faced with bringing her dream to reality, that it occurred to her it wasn’t simply from ambition that she was about to ask for a job, but necessity. Yet not for the world would she allow this woman to know how desperately she and Jack needed the money.

  Clasping her hands tightly before her, she faced the woman feared by all who worked at the store. How she managed it Livia could never afterwards recall, but she put forward her request to be taken on as a shop assistant in something of a breathless rush, making it very plain that she wished to be treated exactly the same as the other girls.

  It was quite obvious that the woman had been primed in advance, no doubt by the new manager, as Miss Caraway coolly remarked that she saw no reason to deny her this opportunity. ‘Normally I would require references, and a good deal of information concerning previous experience. Obviously, that will not be necessary in your own case. If Mr Grayson has no objections, then neither do I.’

  It was on the tip of Livia’s tongue to cuttingly remark that she did not need Grayson’s permission, but she managed to stop herself in time. She’d no idea what the extent of her own powers were, in legal terms, and the business was undeniably in dire straits.

  ‘I shall look forward to welcoming you onto the staff,’ Miss Caraway was saying. ‘I assume you will continue to live at home.’

  ‘I’m currently making enquiries about renting a house close by.’

  The door opened and Grayson himself stood there, filling the tiny office with his towering presence. ‘I think not. Miss Angel will reside in the living quarters above the store, along with the other shop girls.’

  ‘Oh, but—’ Livia began to protest, it not having occurred to her this might be a requirement, but he kept on talking, giving her no time to finish.

  ‘Miss Angel will live with everyone else, at least until she’s reached her objective of learning how this store operates. And since she informs me that she is a quick learner and will soon get the hang of things, she will not be inconvenienced for long, I’m sure. Remember she is to be treated exactly the same as every other employee, is that not so?’

  Livia spoke through gritted teeth. ‘It is exactly as I would wish.’

  * * *

  Livia knew Jack would not be pleased at the prospect of her living away from home, on top of everything else she’d inflicted upon him in the last few days. She would simply have to convince him that it was worth the sacrifice. In fact, she couldn’t wait to get started.

  She made a great fuss of him that evening, cooking him a delicious supper of pork chops followed by rice pudding. Afterwards they made love with a sweet tenderness, all quarrels forgotten. It was almost like their early days together.

  And then she told him.

  As anticipated, he did not take it well. ‘So all that talk of a free-thinking union was just so you could move out, was it?’

  ‘No, of course not. This is only temporary.’

  ‘Because you’ve taken against Fellside?’

  ‘It wasn’t my choice, it’s the rules.’

  ‘Rules? You own the flipping store. You can make your own rules.’

  ‘No, I can’t. Well, in theory I suppose I could. In practice the store hovers on the brink of disaster. Try to understand, Jack, I need to do this, and I need to do it right. There’s a great deal to learn, so it’s probably better that I live on the premises. It’s only for a short time, I promise you. And I’ll be home on Sundays, and Thursdays of course, which is closing day.’

  ‘I’ll mark it on my calendar,’ Jack drily remarked, never having owned such an item.

  Livia sighed. ‘Why did you want to marry me, Jack?’

  He glowered at her. ‘You know why. I like having family about me, and I wanted one of my own.’

  ‘You miss Jessie and the children.’

  ‘Course I do. It’s like a morgue round here without them.’

  ‘Is that what it was all about? You thought, why not marry Livia and have a few children of our own to give the place a bit of life.’

  ‘You know it isn’t. I want to bind to you, as is only right and proper. But even if it were, what’s wrong with that?’ he shouted.

  ‘Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with that at all.’ Livia was forced to concede that, poor as he was, Jack had always enjoyed a loving, happy home, while with her the very opposite was the case. She’d never wanted for anything save love and care. She could feel emotion blocking her throat, a fear starting up deep inside. They’d always bickered, each being strong-willed people, but never like this. ‘You could have checked how I felt about it. I have dreams and ambitions too. It might not be enough for me to be cooped up here all day with nothing to do but sew curtains and titivate, wash your shirts and wait for you to come home.’

  ‘Most women are happy to do just that, and there’d be childer at yer feet to keep you company.’

  Livia sighed, the chasm between them yawning ever wider. ‘I’ve been at pains to explain how I’m not yet ready to start a family.’

  ‘Aye, you’ve made that very clear.’

  ‘I don’t want to rush into producing babies until I’ve properly sorted out the problems at the store. We’re young, there’s plenty of time for all of that later, if we want it.’

  As if realising he was losing the argument, Jack changed tactics. ‘You realise you’ll be ostracised, considered a fallen woman?’

  Livia laughed. ‘They say that already, don’t they? What other people think has never bothered you before, why should it now? I refuse to bow to gossip.’

  Livia kissed him, but all desire had died in him. She persisted by pressing her breasts against his chest, teasing her fingers through the hair at his nape. She murmured softly against his mouth, which was surely beginning to yield to her teasing lips. ‘Don’t be angry that I have to live in at the store for a while. It will be to our benefit in the end.’

  It was the wrong thing to say. Jack pushed her away, his face darkening with a new anger. ‘Are you suggesting I can’t afford to provide for you in the manner to which you are accustomed?’

  Livia closed her eyes in despair for a second. ‘Of course not. Look, this is a fallacious argument. All I’m saying is—’

  ‘Don’t use your big fancy words on me. Go ahead. You do exactly as you please, don’t mind me. You’re one of the Angel girls, after all, and I’m just the hired help.’

  ‘For goodness sake, Jack, don’t talk stupid! I’ve always supported you, even against my own father that time when you were involved in the rent riots. Now I’m asking you to support me. I’m saying you’ll benefit too in the long run, once the business is more secure. I don’t intend to live in for more than a few weeks. Then we’ll rent a lovely home of our own on Gooseholme or in one of the yards. In fact, I’ve already made a few enquiries and …’

  But he was no longer listening. Snatching up his cap he strode out of the door, and though Livia ran after him, calling for him not to rush off in a huff, he kept on walking. And it was not difficult to guess where he was going.

  The next day Livia met her sisters at a small café in the Shambles. They’d arranged to take lunch together, and she was positively bursting to tell them her news, but instantly recognised an atmosphere between the two girls.

  Since George had accepted a labouring job on Todd Farm in Kentmere, Livia had held great hopes that Ella’s charm might win over Mercy’s sulks and jealousy, and that the pair might become friends at least. One glance at their closed faces, and at the way they stood half turned away from each other, told her the futility of such a dream. Mercy still refused to believe that her half-sisters had fully accepted her into the family and loved her
for herself.

  It didn’t help that Ella had decked herself out in her smartest coat and hat with the fur trim, and Mercy, for some reason, wore nothing but a shawl over her stuff gown to keep her warm on this cold autumn day.

  ‘Goodness, you’ll catch your death in that. Where’s your coat?’ Livia scolded as she greeted them each with a kiss and a hug.

  ‘I save that for best,’ Mercy icily responded. ‘I can’t afford two coats, not like some.’

  Ella clicked her tongue with impatience. ‘Anyone would think Amos didn’t pay you decent wages, and he most certainly does. You could perfectly well afford another.’

  ‘I don’t go nowhere except to the cowshed or the barn, so why bother?’

  ‘I’m so glad you could both come,’ Livia enthused, resolutely ushering them to a table. ‘There’s so much I have to tell you I don’t know where to begin.’

  ‘With a pot of tea and a decent lunch in recompense for our disappointment over a certain wedding we’d hoped to celebrate,’ Ella sternly remarked, looking cross.

  ‘But it was my friend she let down,’ Mercy retorted, then turning to Livia, added, ‘I’m not sure I can ever forgive you for treating Jack so badly. He deserves better.’

  Livia gave a rueful smile, knowing the two had ever been close as Jack had been like a big brother to Mercy. Before she’d decided how to respond to this accusation she was interrupted by Ella’s scolding voice yet again.

  ‘And I am your sister, so should have been forewarned.’

  ‘But Jack was hurt most,’ Mercy insisted.

  The pair were at once embroiled in an argument as to which of them had suffered most by Livia’s decision. Sighing, Livia quickly intervened to ask after the children, which generally distracted Ella, but felt a deepening dismay as Mercy continued to glower and sulk. How the pair of them coped with working together in the farmhouse every day, she really couldn’t imagine. The waitress serving them tea and ham salads couldn’t get away quickly enough, the atmosphere was so frigid.